


You Are Not My Bosie

by Siddal



Series: Dear Newt [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Feels, Feely-wheely, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 17:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12940677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siddal/pseuds/Siddal
Summary: Albus finds a distraught Newt packing his trunk after getting expelled.Newt confesses and Albus crosses a line.





	You Are Not My Bosie

**Author's Note:**

> Not an expert on Oscar Wilde and neither is Dumbles. Please don't hate me.

Albus walked into the room to find the young man turned away from him, hunched over his trunk, silently weeping. Albus looks upon him with sad eyes. So young with so much potential, braver than most Gryffindors, brighter than most Ravenclaws, more crafty than most Slytherins and most of all, kinder than most Hufflepuffs. It is a shame upon this school to do away with such brilliance.

Albus clears his throat as a warning, allowing the young man to wipe away as much of the tears as he could before facing him. But the young man could not wipe away the red-rimmed eyes and flushed nose and cheeks.

“Newton, my boy.” Albus’ words drenched in sympathy.

“Professor.” Newt greets him with the ghost of a whimper.

“I'm so very sorry.” Says Albus as he comes closer.

Newt shakes his head before saying “It's no matter, sir. You've done what you could, more than you should have, and I thank you for it. I've made my bed and now I must leave it.”

“Lie in it.”  Albus corrects his use of the muggle expression with a sad smile.

“Really? That doesn't make sense.” Newt’s forehead scrunches up in that endearing way Albus will surely miss.

“I've never understood it either.”

Newt picks up a pair of socks from the pile on the bed and folds it haphazardly.

“My only regret is losing this, our little chats. I don’t have many friends, as I'm sure you know.”

Albus nods and says “Yes, I know but never understood. You are too wonderful to not have friends.”

“Might you be my friend, professor?” Newt asks as he looks down intently at the stitches of the socks.

“I already am.”

He shoves the pair into the trunk and ask “Even after I leave?”

Albus steps closer and places an affectionate hand where Newt’s neck a shoulders meet.

“I think I might hold your friendship in my heart until my dying day, dear Newt.”

Newt takes a moment to ponder on those words, assessing his next move. It’s a leap of faith and he takes it. He looks up at his beloved professor with fresh tears glistening in his eyes.

“I've learned so much from you. Not just academic things but things about myself.”

Albus is taken aback by the intensity in Newt’s eyes but the young man holds his hand tighter on his neck before he could pull it away.

“I will treasure your friendship always, but I’m afraid I might risk losing it now with what I wish to do.”

“Newt.” Albus sighs out an attempt to deter the young man.

“But I must, or I might regret it for the rest of my life.”

Albus finds himself being pulled down into a kiss. Soft plush lips against his own, a delicate chin against the scruff on his, and a wetness falling from the younger’s lashes onto his cheeks. His hands weave involuntarily, one up Newt’s arm, the other to cradle Newt’s head.

Albus feels exploring hands move from his cheeks, caressing past his ears and then gripping desperately onto the hairs at his nape. He groan into the kiss, forgetting himself in that instant, pushing past the lips and teeth with his tongue.

Dear Newton. Kind, giving, curious Newton. Young, trusting, desperate Newton. By god, he tastes exquisite.

The hand on Newt’s arm tightens for a moment, savoring the feel of developing muscles under its fingers. But then Albus remembers why it’s there and gently pushes Newt away.

“Newt, we can’t.” says Albus breathlessly.

Newt’s eyes widen in embarrassment and turns away slouching over the trunk on his bed once again, hiding his tears from the young professor he so admired.

“Newt, no…Please! I didn’t mean…You risk nothing. I am still your friend but you know why we can’t.” Albus struggles to appease Newt.

“I’m no longer your student!” Newt insist.

“But Newt, you are still young, and hurting from what’s just happened.”

“This isn’t about getting kicked out! This isn’t about Leta!” Newt turns back to look Albus in the eyes.

“But unlike many of your peers, you’ve been occupied with more intellectual and philanthropic pursuits. And I admire you for it. But because of that, you've barely had a chance to determine and understand your preferences. And I do not wish to determine them for you.”

“I am not confused!” Newt advances on him.

“And even if I did chose for you, I'm afraid I won’t be much use.”

Newt is shocked still.

“I don't understand.”

Albus looks away and says “I am not fit for love.”

Albus sits down slouched on the bed across from Newt. Newt frowns and says “There’s no one more deserving.”

There is silence for a little while. Newt sits across from his professor, not knowing what else to say. Finally, Albus turns back towards him but doesn’t really look him in the eyes. And it’s as if they’d wondered into a different conversation all together.

“I find myself thinking of Oscar Wilde a lot lately. Do you know who that is?” asks Albus.

“It rings a bell.” Answers Newt, still frowning.

“He was a muggle author. A scandalous man but talented, learned and loving. Maybe a bit too trusting. Gets ahead of himself with all his seemingly bright ideas. He'd found love you see, in the strangest of places. Friendship.”

Newt wanted to interrupt and say it wasn’t a strange place to look at all, but held his tongue.

“He'd been blind and indulge his friend's every whim and fancy. In the end, catastrophe. His beloved led him to heartbreak and ruin. I feel much like him, but my end turned out to be even more catastrophic. My end involved ruin as well as death, but not just mine but others’ as well.”

The professor suddenly looked tired in Newt’s eyes. He’d loved before and had gotten burned.

“You've not reached your end, sir.” Newt tries to comfort him.

“The part of me that could give himself over to love, that kind of love, that all-consuming love, has had its end. To die consumed by love seems a beautiful thing. But with the extent of the damage my love caused, what it had turned me into, I cannot have that end. I cannot allow it.”

Newt kneels before him and takes his hands in his.

“I would not lead you to catastrophe!”

“But I could lead you to it.” Albus smiles sadly at him.

“You are no longer my student, but I suggest you read up on Wilde, not just his work but also his life. And later you might come to understand this. You are not my Bosie. I’ve met my Bosie and much like the real one, despite all his love and beauty and glamour, he turned out to be a cruel man. You? You are my Robbie. My love, yes, but also my friend and dearest confidante.”

Newt looks up at him hopefully.

“Whether you find yourself favoring the fairer sex or someone more like me in the future, when you think of me, I want you to remember that I do love you. And I would have if I could have.”

Albus caresses Newt’s cheek, urging him to come closer. They end up standing, their faces barely an inch apart.

“Do not despair, my love. This place just wasn’t for you. But there’s some greater adventure awaiting you out there. And I am just an owl away.” Albus whispers before pulling Newt into another kiss, light, yet electric, but gone too soon.

Newt’s lips chase after his, and Albus breathes in Newt’s air, looking longingly at those lips. He is tempted but he is also resolute.

“Forgive me.”

And with that he leaves him, with all the what-ifs and could-have-beens.

The boy had things to pack and he had classes to teach.

**Author's Note:**

> Funny thing is, Jude Law had played Bosie in a film.
> 
> Thanks for reading and please comment.


End file.
